


Stormy Skies and Lullabies

by Aurorafulnerd



Series: LU Disc stuff [3]
Category: Linked Universe - Fandom, The Legend of Zelda & Related Fandoms, The Legend of Zelda: Link's Awakening
Genre: Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, Drowning, Gen, Sailing, Sea, Storms
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-30
Updated: 2019-04-30
Packaged: 2020-02-09 15:26:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18640861
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aurorafulnerd/pseuds/Aurorafulnerd
Summary: Legend is glad he has a wound and a double watch shift as an excuse. Anything, even admitting to pain and tiredness, is better than letting the other Links see his fear.





	Stormy Skies and Lullabies

**Author's Note:**

> This is written for the Linked Universe prompt 'Music'! If you haven't heard of Linked Universe you should check it out! Characters made by Nintendo, perfected by JoJo, and ultimately wrecked by my inability to write! 
> 
> The song I used is: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kxTghSZupv8 It's stunningly pretty, moreso than my simple words can do justice to, so give it a listen.

"Alright, Wild! Truth or dare?" Wind's voice is singsong against the storm raging above deck.

"Dare!" Wild grins back. Legend, from his place on the swaying floor, can see it's going to be something ridiculous as Wind's face slips into a sly, vicious grin. 

The dare itself is drown out for him, however, by a skull-splitting 'crack' of lightning and dull, roaring thunder. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, focusing on keeping his body from the telltale shivering that would alert the others of his fear. He is beyond glad that he had taken a double watch last night, and that the fight for the monster's ship they were currently sailing had ended with him with an arrow in his side. Sure, it had hurt like a bitch when they'd pushed it through- _all apologies and soft, reassuring words as his tired mind formed pained sentences incomprehensible to his own ears. Four's eyes glazed and listless at Legend's blood coating his fingers. 'You're like a brother to me, Legend,' He had said with the most serious, saddened face, 'Losing one of you guys would be as bad as losing a piece of myself.' Legend takes a breath and fights down whatever the feeling rising at the back of his throat is_ \- but at least he had an excuse now. Admitting valid tiredness and pain to his concerned friends was much better than telling them that he was afraid.

Afraid of what? Storms, the sea? The way his brain kept feeling electric numbing his body, and the wood of his raft breaking under him? 

Maybe. 

If worse came to worse, that's the lie he would feed them. They _couldn't_ know how badly it would break him if the storm and sea took them away too. His eyes open again and dart to their seated figures. Wild is just finishing some odd, dance-like waddle. He hates the way his tense and wary body relaxes when he sees them sitting together, cheerily passing the time until the storm subsided. Even the old man had joined in, armor off to enjoy the threatless occasion.

 _'Nothing to worry about, they're right there.'_ He tells himself, and doesn't believe a word of it, _'Since when did we start caring anyway?'_

 _'Weak.'_ The voices snarl from the edges of his mind, _'You are weak for trusting them, for caring about them. One day they will leave you too. The quest will end sooner or later and they'll never think of you again.'_

Maybe the reason why he finds himself moving to join their circle is because he knows it's true. 

He settles down again next to Sky, ignoring all the worried eyes that follow the way he favors his wounded side. All of them know Sky is the most physically affectionate and accepting of them all. He had told them a long time ago that he wouldn't press if one of them needed cuddles and hugs. Legend was ashamed to admit that he'd given into that offer once before, and was about to again. But this was in front of the others, not in the dead of night, with a harp between them. Their only audience then had been the sweet melody Legend had shakily played once by himself, and then again with his fingers guiding Sky's. Sky wouldn't turn him down because they were in front of the others, right?

He's just starting to psyche himself up for it when a gentle arm finds his shoulder and pulls him close, under the sail cloth. He sees the others stare, and has a moment of irrational fear that they would hold it against him. He can practically hear Warrior's taunting voice, echoing with actual malice and intent behind the joking threats of leaving him for being too much of a bitch to the group. Can see Time's disappointed glare for being weak enough to indulge in physical comfort. Nightmares that used to be his Uncle, Zelda, and _Her_ blur into his exhausted waking world. Blending what used to be his family and the fear of failure and ridicule, like the hero before him, with his new brothers that he _couldn't_ lose. 

Then their eyes are shifting away back to their game. No questioning or wounding remarks. Sky's fingers tighten in a gentle squeeze on his upper arm. He could almost cry as the voices in his head are washed away in the care-filled way Sky is mindful of his wound and the quick, distressed glances from _Warrior_ of all Links.

 _'Goddesses, I've lost too much blood. What am I doing being all sappy. I can't afford to get attached like this again.'_ He scolds himself, and almost pulls away from Sky. What has he done to deserve this affection? He snarks them constantly, there's no way they tolerate him. Not when he barely tolerates himself. But, he can see their smiles, hear their voices and laughter. Sky's hand, now rubbing gentle circles on his arm, feels all too real.

"Four! Truth or dare?"

"Dare!" The smallest of their group grins, "And nothing lame like whatever that was Wild just did."

"Alright, I dare you to go stand updeck for a full minute." 

His attention is brought full-swing to the game immediately.

"Only a minute? Vaati's softest breeze is stronger than those winds." Four laughs, abruptly springing up and bolting up the stairs before Time can even open his mouth for a rebuke.

A terrible feeling settles in his stomach, and he forces himself upright quicker than he should. He staggers at the head-rush and feels hands steady him. Blurry words are being spoken and promptly tuned out by a mind fixated on the pounding of water on wood and distant thunder. Pulling from the steadying grip, he follows Four as quickly as his aching side and swaying vision allows.

He opens the door, gasping involuntarily at the way the wind yanks it from his shaky, but still formidable, grasp. There's nothing on deck.

There's _nobody_ on deck.

"Four!" He calls, though his voice is a mere rasp from when his wound was treated.

He only barely sees the fingers clutching the side rails of the boat, registers the way they disappear as a wave crashes into that side of the hull, before his body is running forward on autopilot. He has time to think, _'Goddess, am I dumb.'_ Before he hits the water that Four just vanished into. 

Instantly, his whole perception narrows to the burning of his side as salt water finds its way past the bandages. He only just stops himself from gasping at the pain as his sluggish brain comes awake enough to take in that his surrounding were no longer breathable. The next thing that hits him is the freezing temperature that shocks his body and mind. The water around him heaves and swirls in a disorienting, dark mass. Through it all, he catches sight of a color that doesn't blend into the water.

_'Thank you Red, for not being a cool color.'_

He pushes through the agony from his side to angle his body toward the red, and kicks out toward it. Regret slaps him for how dumb he is a moment later, when he realizes he doesn't have the Zora's Flippers on. It's too late now though, and he can see Four's unconscious body just out of reach. He sees his own pale skin through the water, reaching, and then snagging the red of the tunic. He pulls with all of his waning strength, and kicks towards what he hopes is the surface.

Relief from his burning lungs is incredible when he hits air. He drags Four's head up, bracing it against his own, and feels encouraged when his body almost immediately tries to cough without prompting. A rope slaps the surface of the water in front of him, and it's only instinct that allows him to catch it in freezing fingers before it was pulled away. With shaky movements, he drags himself along it, registering that it led up past the wooden wall that was the boats hull.

"Legend! Tie!" He hears Wind's voice scream.

 _'Tie?'_ He thinks with dumb tiredness, looking at the rope for a few precious seconds before the message gets through. Dragging the shuddering Four off his shoulder, he works numb fingers to loop the rope around each leg respectively, and then the chest. Tying it in as firm a knot as he can manage.

 _'Done.'_ he thinks hazily, and watches them haul Four up the side of the boat. Some sailor's instinct rises in him at the calmness of the stormy waters, and how much of the hull he can see, but he brushes it aside. _'They're safe. They won't leave me.'_

It doesn't occur to him until a warning scream and a massive wave throwing his body downwards with the crushing force of one of Wild's lynels, that _he_ isn't safe yet. Burning fills his nose and throat as his winded body attempts to take in air, traveling down to his chest in a splitting, painful moment. His body attempts to cough the second it touches his lungs, and then reflexively takes another breath in. He marvels for a transcendent moment that the second breath doesn't hurt nearly like the first. It's thicker, freezing, and he can feel the weight of the water fill his stomach, dragging him down. It's serene in the best way. His thoughts and regrets and worries melt away to a blissful still amidst the tossing waves. 

Then he hears the singing.

_"Oh, hush thee, my baby,"_

A haunting, familiar voice settles across his battered body, and amongst the swelling waves he feels peace. The wound on his side has faded from it's screaming pain to something duller and pounding. His lungs flutter and his rib cage aches. His stomach feels uncomfortably full, and getting fuller, as if he had eaten too much of Wild's soup. He's sure he's bruised, if not broken. Disjointedly, he realizes that something is amiss, is sure he should be feeling more pain. He doesn't linger on the thought long. The body-wide prickling of the cold and exhaustion, and the water that drags at his clothes and body shake any coherent thoughts from his mind.

 _"The night is behind us."_

_"And black are the waters, that sparkled so green."_

Three more voices join the first as the waves roll over him, and the pressure drags him down. Water fills his ears with a soft, rushing sound. It's a soothing white-noise against the abyssal black of the ocean. The salt stings his eyes for a brief moment, but they remain listlessly open and he can't find the energy to close them.

_"The moon o'er the combers,"_

When he resurfaces, he sees bodies hanging over the railing. Their hands reach, and their muffled and distorted voices call to him, but he neither sees or hears those things. He's locked accepting, welcoming eyes with Time, and he swears their leader is crying. But that can't be it. To cry over someone like him? It must be the rain. Nevertheless, Time's eyes follow the motions of his body with a pained, haunted expression. He distantly registers that a rope has landed across his chest in an admirably good throw. _'Probably Wild,'_ his numbed brain thinks dumbly, not even trying to grab it. The water whisks the rope away and pushes him downward again a moment later.

_"Looks downwards to find us."_

_"At rest, in the hollows that rustle between."_

He feels his eyes finally slip closed, and the exhaustion slips from his shoulders like water off the back of a gull. He feels weight at his gut, settling there and pulling him down. He surrenders willingly to the soft darkness, finding the peace in the raging waters around him.

_"Where billow meets billow,"_

The winds howl, but don't mute the words of the song any. He doesn't bother with the exhaustion of forcing his brain to think about it, and before long the wind settles into a near-pleasant background instrumental to the song, accompanied by the roll of the sea.

_"There soft be thy pillow."_

He vaguely feels cold at the edges of his fingers, but he no longer feels like he's inhaling water, it's just a natural breath in and out. His fear has long since melted away, leaving an pleasant, unfillable void in his chest where his emotions used to be. His body is blissfully numb to the battering of the sea, and everything physical around him feels soft and ethereal. 

_"Ah, weary wee flipperling, curl at thy ease."_

He feels like he should be fighting the involuntary response of his body to fold listlessly with the will of the tide. Like there was something there, just of of reach. Important enough that he remembers it through the fuzz of his mind. But when he opens his eyes again to look for it, he finds nothing more than the drifting of his own bangs in front of him.

_"The storm shall not wake thee,"_

A swell pushes him upward, and he doesn't fight the way his body opens to lay his back on the pressure. There's cold and prickles on his face. He vaguely sees wood raising somewhere to his side, but directly above him is the real sight. The sky is split in bright beautiful arcs by lightning. It illuminates the rolling underside of the clouds the way the moon softly highlights the crest of waves. A tiny grin forces it's way through his numb muscles to touch his face at the comparison. Then the water is pulling him down again.

_"Nor shark overtake thee."_

Near him, past his hair, in front of the vortex of clouds and lightning, there's a dark shape. Light blue scales and long fins. _'Zora'_ , his mind supplies. The tiniest of pin-prickles is all he feels of the strong arms wrapping around him and carrying him up. He decides vaguely that he's hallucinating when the blue scales melt away and it's Time instead breaking the surface with his body in tow. He is too numb to feel the rope as it's secured around his waist, from where excess hangs from the knot around Time's own body.

_"Asleep, in the arms of the slow, swinging seas."_

His brain is too blank to even register their exit from the water. Much less could it comprehend the rush to get his vacant body downstairs and warm. There's no soul and only the faintest of heartbeats to witness them crying as Twi pushes on his chest desperately. Hoping to get the water out of his companion's, his family's, his _brother's_ lungs and stomach. Hoping without hope that he will come back to them.

No, his soul isn't there for that. It feels the sun warming his back as he drifts into land on a plank of wood. The familiar shape of the island looms above. Ahead of him, on the sands, waits a small group. His uncle is there, providing the gentle tenor that melted away the years of bitterness. His parents, faces he had half-forgot, stand with open arms. His fathers voice the strong baritone that rose and fell with the tides, his mother's the soft alto that contrasted the waves' melody in the best of ways. 

And Her. 

He recognizes her red hair before he even sees her lips moving in the sweet soprano he had so missed.

As soon as his feet hit the sand he attempts to stand, and the image is broken for a split second. A split second where he acutely feels the slowing rhythm of his heart. A mere glimpse of pain and cold that wracks his body in a way he's never felt before. The barest of moments that bring forgotten, familiar voices to his attention, pleading he not give in. That he fight this and come back to them.

But her smile is so, so sweet. He can feel the soft fluttering in his stomach that had for years tortured him with what could never be. 

He pushes the moment, the second, the glimpse to the back of his head and walks to their waiting arms on trembling legs and emotions. Their arms circle around him, and he feels okay for the first time since the day he began his journey.

"Welcome home, Link." She smiles, lips pressed to his ear and warm body encircling his wretched, miserable form.

"Marin." His quiet joy pushes whatever lingered of the pain away. He no longer feels his slowing heart beat, and can't bring himself to care.

The singing of the seagulls on the wind. The arms that held him while he felt the weakest he ever had. Her quiet, gentle laugh, accompanied by the press of her forehead resting against his. That was all that mattered now.

_Asleep,_

_in the arms_

_of the slow, swinging seas._


End file.
